


A Tale of Two (Hot, Steamy!) Lovers

by Living_Free



Series: Slip and Slide [14]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Adorable Jon and Damian friendship, Alfred breaks out the good cutlery, Bruce Wayne is a Good Bro, Conspiracy theories about Dick 'Sunshine' Grayson, Crack, Damian gets a minion, Damian unleashes his inner prince, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Tim and Kon are In Love, Tim has Ideas about many things, batfamily, lol Jason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 16:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16601600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Living_Free/pseuds/Living_Free
Summary: Tim loves Kon, and Kon loves Tim.Of course, Bruce cannot abide by this.Damian dresses to impress.And Jason is saved by the overwhelming power of Dick.





	A Tale of Two (Hot, Steamy!) Lovers

Tim was standing in front of Bruce, fighting the urge to fidget in the face of Bruce's Bat-glare. "So," Tim said. 

"So," Bruce repeated.

"So," Tim said again, drawing a breath. "I'd like to have Kon and his family over for dinner."

Bruce's expression darkened. "When you say family..."

"Not Luthor. Just the Kents."

Bruce leaned back in his chair, allowing the dim, natural lighting of the Batcave to highlight his angular face, giving him a sinister glow. "I have survived decades without having Clark over to my house for dinner. Why do you want to break my streak now?"

"Because you and Clark never dated," Tim pointed out. "Kon is my boyfriend and soulmate, and I want our families to get along."

"The Kents already like us," Bruce said. 

"Bruce," Tim sighed heavily. "Just. Please. Can we please have a family moment without there being invading robot armies to fight off at the same time."

Bruce surveyed his son. "If you can find and imprison the Joker tonight, I'll consider it."

Tim straightened, nodding solemnly. "Seal it with a spit shake?"

"Do I look like Jason to you?"

"There is an uncanny resemblance, for all that you claim to share no blood."

"Excuse me?"

"A large portion of Gothamites have dark hair and blue eyes. I posit that this is because of generations of intermarriage within the Gotham community, owing to the fact that no new blood was introduced by immigration on account of the city being such a dangerous pit-stain on the face of the world."

Bruce stared. "Did you just call our beloved city a pit-stain?"

"It's become less of a pit-stain since we took over the crimefighting aspect," Tim admitted. "Crime has taken a definite and permanent downturn since the arrival of Batman and the various Robins. You're like the deodorant of Gotham, fighting sweat an odor with the refreshing, lemony scent of justice."

"I smell lemony to you," Bruce deadpanned. 

"It is a bold choice of your civilian persona to shun the traditional masculine odor of musk and old spice and opt for a softer, more stereotypically feminine scent."

"You categorize your family members by scent?" Bruce asked.

"You smell like lemons because of the de-odorizing sachets that Alfred puts in your underwear and sock drawer," Tim said. "Jason smells like the more traditional masculine musk and pizza since Dick nagged him into quitting smoking. Damian smells like apples and cat, owing to his eating a lot of apples and owning a cat. Cass smells like jasmine, like the perfume that Steph got her for her birthday. Dick smells like honey and milk and divinity, because I strongly suspect that there is something not quite human about him."

Bruce looked disturbed. "Dick is a meta?"

"Not quite," Tim said, shrugging. "Surely you've noticed that...things happen around him?"

Bruce thought back to the occurrences that frequently happened around his eldest. Squirrels seemed to run up to him and chitter at him. Sparrows fluttered down to chirp and him, and more than once, he caught Dick chirping back at them. It was always sunny near the manor, even though it was raining in the city.

"Huh."

"I am working on a theory," Tim said. "I'll tell you when I'm done. It shouldn't be long - I'm very smart. So, can we have Kon and his family over?"  
Bruce frowned. "I know what you are trying to do. You're trying to ply me with so much information as to overload my mind, and then sneak your boyfriend in to get your way."

"I did no such thing, my intentions are pure."  
Bruce sighed. He desperately wanted to believe that Tim's intentions and his everything else was still pure, no thanks to Clark's damnable clone-son-brother creature.

"Fine. But we're still going to find and arrest Joker tonight."

Tim beamed. "Don't worry, lemongrab, I have a plan."

Tim bounced out, leaving Bruce to wonder what on earth a lemongrab was. One google search later and several gifs wiser, Bruce was left feeling displeased. 

***

The plan involved jumping heroically across several rooftops, locating the Joker, and then letting Damian loose after the Joker with an axe. And where Damian went, Dick went, and where Dick went, Dick's escrima sticks went. The result - one very injured Joker, one happy Damian, one very proud Dick, and one deliriously happy Jason, whom Tim had been sure to facetime the entire thing to. 

Bruce, who had been in on the facetime group chat, grunted curmudgeonly when Tim flounced in after patrol, victorious.

"So," Tim sang.

"So," Bruce grunted. 

Tim spied Bruce's coffee cup on a desk near the computer and lunged for it, beating out Bruce's fingers by milliseconds. He sucked up the brew, sighed happily, and looked beatifically at his father. "My elaborate plotting has ensnared the Joker, as promised. So, shall we say this Saturday evening?"

Bruce grunted defeatedly. "No funny business."

"Of course not, Bruce, what kind of person do you take me for?" Tim asked with faux horror.

"The kind of person who gives their little brother an axe," Bruce countered. "Really, that was unacceptable."

Tim struggled not to point out the obvious lemongrab meme. "You can't stop me from buying my kid brother nice things for his birthday, Bruce."

"Damian's birthday is in April. This is October."

"Half-birthday."

"That is just desperate."

"Still, I won," Tim sang, "so you have to dress up and be nice to Clark and Kon for a whole night."

"Harrumph."

"You know, during a state of heightened emotions, your inner poshness comes through."

"Egads. What rot."

Tim flounced off, knowing that he had secured his victory.

***

Saturday night's patrol ended early for the Waynes, and Batman very reluctantly handed over the reins to Barbara's Birds of Prey, starring Stephanie and her obnoxious grin. 

Instead, he put foundation over his latest visible bruise, and waddled down to the dining room to greet the Kents. 

"Lois," Bruce said, offering the woman a peck on the cheek. Lois returned the peck, smiling innocently. But Bruce knew the fangs that belied that smile. He had been on the receiving end of several of Lois Lane's articles before. 

"Honey, come say hello to Uncle Bruce," Lois called Jon over. 

Jon, all of eight years old, tripped over and hid behind his mom. "Hi," he offered Bruce. "Are you daddy's brother?"

"Perish the thought," Bruce muttered, suppressing the urge to pick up the new child and stuffing him into a Robin costume. 

"Little Kent," Damian called from atop the staircase landing, his hand daintily grazing the bannister and dressed in his finest silk robes. 

Jon gaped. "Mom! Damian's a princess!" He whispered in awe. 

Tim, who had thus far been attempting to devour Kon's exotic earlobe under the pretext of whispering something to him, looked up. "Why," he asked his little brother, who was descending the main staircase like a debutante, "are you wearing silk robes?"

"It was you who indicated that this was to be a formal dinner, Drake," Damian huffed. "These are my formal robes that I wore to attend my Grandfather's royal court."

"You look completely out of place," Tim said. 

"False. Grayson says that I look regal and adorable. He is, as usual, correct. I am always worthy of adoration. And just now, the Little Kent likened me to royalty."

"He called you a princess."

"Like Belle!" Jon agreed. 

"See, he even compliments me in French!"

"You are incredible," Tim said, sighing. 

Damian beamed. "Finally, you admit to my superiority! Come Little Kent, let us adjourn to the dining room, where Pennyworth has, as Todd said, 'gone ham' and has prepared his best dishes in anticipation of an actual formal event."

The kids disappeared, leaving the adults still in the main room. "Hi Bruce," Clark said, bobbing over from where he had finished hugging Dick. "Thanks for having us over. What's the occasion?"

"You don't know?" Bruce asked suspiciously. "Tim and Kon-El set up the dinner. I would have assumed that you would have known that."

"I do, but what's the occasion?" Clark stressed. "You know, I was planning to take Kon out to the barn today. He's become a man, and I was going to hand over the keys to the tractor as a coming of age rite."

Bruce's alarm bells started going haywire. "It's Kon-El's birthday?"

"Technically, he was hatched from a tank, so..."

"And he's how old?"

"Chronologically five, but biologically and mentally eighteen," Clark said. 

Bruce spun around to look over at the fireplace, where Tim was smiling up at Kon, and tracing his pale, delicate finger over Kon's bulging pectorals. Bruce's eyes popped in horror. Kon was eighteen. He was of age. Tim, who was seventeen, was still an itty-bitty baby boy. Abort relationship! Abort!

Before Bruce could do anything, however, he found his shoulder the prisoner of an eye watering grip. Turning around, he saw Dick grinning a maniacal, strained smile at him. 

"Don't come in the way of True Love, Bruce," Dick gritted out shrilly. 

"But-"

"Come and sit next to me, Bruce," Dick gritted out, frog-marching his father to a seat at the dining table, leaving Tim and Kon to follow at a more sedate pace, Kon's fingers trailing lower down Tim's back towards unspeakable places.

Dinner was a lively affair, and Alfred was in his element, glad at having a proper Wayne style dinner party where he had an excuse to lay out the good cutlery. After dinner, Alfred brought out a cake and set in in front of Kon, who thanked him. 

"Many happy returns of the day, Master Kon," Alfred said indulgently, as Tim twined his lithe form around Kon's bulging bicep. 

"Thanks for going to all this trouble, Alfred," Kon replied politely. "I really appreciate it. I'll pop over with some fresh apples from the harvest soon."

Alfred bowed and gave Bruce a pleased look, glad that his young Timothy had bagged such a hard working and well-mannered young man, don't mess this up for me, Master Bruce. 

Bruce was not swayed by the promise of fresh apples, however, and continued to look apprehensively at Kon. 

After a while, Kon stood up and tapped his knife against the wine glass. Alfred sighed happily. Ah! Such decorum! 

"Thank you all for coming and making my Hatching Day so wonderful," Kon said. "I am glad to be surrounded by friends and family, because I have an important announcement to make." on reached a hand into his pocket, and withdrew a small, velvet box, amid gasps of surprise, yelps of joy, and growls of rage (Bruce).

Kon got down on one knee in front of Tim. "Tim, my petit pickle," he said lovingly.

"Oh, Kon, my wonderful watermelon," Tim sighed romantically. 

"Tim, I love you so much. I brought this ring for you for when you turn eighteen, and can legally say that you'll accept me as yours. I'm going to hold onto it for you, and next year on the same day, I'll ask you again. Tim, will you allow me to wait for your hand in marriage?"

"Oh, Kon!" Tim gasped. "We'll get engaged as soon as I turn eighteen, and marry as soon as I turn twenty-one! I can hardly wait any longer! My body, mind, and soul all burn in longing for you!"

"Tim, my ravishing radish!"

"Kon, my muscular mango!"

"My courageous corncob!"

"My noble nectarine!"

"Enough!" Damian cried, repulsed. "The time for this sentimental babble is past! We must now enter into negotiations! Kent," he said, turning to Clark who looked surprised at being addressed, "as the Elder of your family, I shall confer with you about Drake's bride price."

Jason, who had taken a bite of cake just then, choked, and would have perished if not for Dick's sensing trouble and administering Heimlich maneuver. 

"I would like to start the negotiations by quoting Drake's price as worth one cow and one Little Kent."

It was Clark's turn to choke. "Y-you want Jon?"

"I thought that you liked Colin, Damian," Tim said with a frown. 

"Indeed, Colin is my Beloved in all respects. I aim to take Little Kent under my wing and train him as my minion." 

"I like the Minions," Jon said innocently. "They're tiny, yellow, and cute."

"Not that kind of minion, honey," Clark said hurriedly. 

Bruce decided that it was high time that he intervened. "We're not going to decide Tim's worth in farm animals," he said tiredly. "Damian, take Jon up to your room and play. Dick, help Alfred clear the table. Jason, go wrap up the leftovers. Cassandra-"

"Yes daddy?"

Bruce smiled as he often did when addressing his only daughter. Really, the favoritism was palpable. "Sweetness, can you get me the keys to the West Wing?"

"Okay," Cass said, and swept away. 

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Why do you want to open up the West Wing of the manor? It's not been used in centuries."

"It was last used in 1680, to house Gallifrey Wayne, the wayward son of Silas Wayne the Third, when he threatened to elope with the pauper postman," Bruce said solemnly. "And now, it will be used to house you and your teenage lust."

"What! No!" Tim yelped.

"Master Bruce!" Alfred scolded. 

"Oh goodness gracious!" Clark cried anxiously.

Lois, who knew full well that Bruce was not actually going to lock up his child, leaned forward. "So what happened to Gallifrey Wayne?" She asked. 

"He eloped with the postman," Bruce said. "He dug a tunnel out and reunited with his lover, and they hitched a horse out of Gotham to Merrypolyps Village, which is the current Metropolis, because no one wants to live in a place that sounds like a disease of the colon."

"That's so romantic," Clark sighed.

"'The Tale Of Two Lovers Lost To Time', by Lois Lane," Lois imagined aloud. "They'll be talking about it for years. I'll win another Pulitzer for my brilliant investigative journalism."

"Nevertheless, Tim-"

"Bruce, calm down," Tim said, rolling his eyes. "As I said, we're going to wait till I'm of age to formally be engaged."

"Until then, my scintillating stringbean," Kon said, "I will tie this strand of golden hay around your delicate and lethal finger as a sign of my enduring love." Tim cooed as Kon tied the piece of hay around his ring finger, and Clark wept farmboy tears. 

All too soon, it was time for the Kents to leave, and Bruce went upstairs to fetch Jon from where he was playing with Damian, only to find Jon dressed in a matching set of Damian's silk robes. 

"Look daddy! I'm a princess too!" Jon said, bouncing over. 

"Cease bobbing around, Little Kent," Damian hissed. "Royalty does not bounce, we glide, like the elegant snail."

Jason nearly fell from the staircase when he heard. Once again, it was only Dick's perpetual paranoia and Jaybird Radar that saved him from certain death. 

Bruce took great pleasure in kicking Clark and Kon out, with an added threat that if he saw any more hay or wheat around his precious manor then he would find and dismember them.

"I didn't do anything!" Clark refuted.

"Your DNA helped make your brother/son/clone menace. You are entirely responsible for my high blood pressure."

After things had settled down, the family sat in the parlour with Tim beaming and admiring the hay strand around his finger. "I'm half-engaged," he said, his voice dripping with saccharine dreaminess. "Kon is so perfect."

"Father, I suggest that we drop Drake's bride price," Damian hissed. "Clearly, his mind is compromised."

"We're not selling Timmy, Dami," Dick said. "We're going to gain a brother in Kon-El."

"I don't want another one," Damian said. "A sister, perhaps. I have only had a good track record there."

"Well, think about it this way," Jason said. "Tim could have never broken up with Steph, and she could be your new sister."

"Preposterous, Todd!" Damian yelled, backing away rapidly. "Recant your statement lest you tempt fate!"

"Stephanie Drake," Jason leered. Dick smacked his shoulder lightly. "Stephanie Drake-Wayne."

"Father!"

"Stop it, Jason," Bruce said, shuddering at his son's words. 

"So you'll let Kon marry Tim, then?"

"If I must," Bruce sighed heavily, and slumped into his armchair by the fireplace to brood. Tim slunk over and draped himself on the armrest, leaning into Bruce. 

"Hey, Bruce?"

"Yes, Tim?"

"Thanks."

Bruce brightened at the word, and patted Tim's shoulder. He was a good dad, and he had the best kids. So what if he was going to get another son? He could handle it. He could bully Kon into moving into the manor.

"Kon-El seems like the reasonable sort. Surely he will move into the manor," Bruce mused. 

Dick and Jason giggled, having read Tim's fanfics of himself living the life of a simple farmer's wife, sending his man off to work in the morning with a hearty breakfast and morning sex, and keep house and feed the chickens while waiting for his Adonis of a husband to return when the sun set and take him roughly up against the barnyard wall, and then eat warm, gooey, cherry pie together.

This was only chapter 30/110 in Tim's unfinished saga on AO3.

But Bruce did not know this. 

"I'm sure he will, Bruce," Tim squeaked dishonestly, already planning for Kon to fly him at mach speed to Gotham every morning after he moved to the farm after marriage. 

Bruce's Bat-senses tingled, but he let it go. After all, this was his son, and anything he plotted was bound to be successful for all parties. 

He had faith in his kids.


End file.
